Fic: Good Little Girl, John/Dean NC-17 daddy!kink
TITLE: Good Little Girl
PAIRING: John/Dean, implied future John/Sam
RATING: NC-17
WORD COUNT: 2700
WARNINGS: Underage (Dean is 14), bruises, blowjobs, rough sex, first time, daddykink, cross-dressing, slightly feminized Dean
SUMMARY: Dean tries his best to give his Daddy what he wants.
A/N #1: for skeletncloset who posted a vnsfw gif (below the cut) here which got all my juices flowing.
A/N #2: damn you, skeletncloset. Went to that tumblr and spent an hour downloading lots of gifs with the same theme so there will probably more of this filth.
A/N #3: I should be working on my spn_j2_bigbang not writing John/Dean daddy!kink porn at 2am but just had to get this out of my system and I already want to write more.
GOOD LITTLE GIRL
It's a quarter to four on a Tuesday afternoon. Sam is at soccer practice (won't be finished til six-thirty) and the Impala is parked outside the door to their motel room. Dean lets himself in and drops his backpack just inside the door.
John is slumped on the sofa, eyes closed, long lashes curling softly, cheeks and jaw covered in stubble that's already heavily streaked with grey. He's still dressed in his Fed Suit, white and blue checked shirt under a dark blue jacket, dark blue dress pants wrinkled and stained with travel grime and sweat. One hand is between his legs and his slim fingers are slowing stroking over the large bulge, thumb pressing against the head, circling over the top, then pressing again. There's an obvious damp patch and Dean knows he's close, so close. He may have come once already, probably has given his habit of orgasming just from thinking about bending Dean over the nearest piece of furniture.
Dean's stomach clenches and twists. He tastes bile, bitter and hot, at the back of his throat and swallows quickly, eyes squeezing shut as he takes a slow deep breath. John's been gone almost two weeks. There won't be any foreplay this time, no soft kisses and tender touches to get Dean in the mood and ready for John's affections.
The bag is sitting on the floor next to John's left foot. The white and pink logo is one Dean has become very familiar with over the last few weeks. 'Sweet Sixteen'
He first saw it when John wished him a happy fourteenth birthday. Inside was a pink satin and lace G-string and a sheer baby-doll negligée. It was pastel pink with tiny darker pink roses and spaghetti straps. When he put it on, it barely covered his junk in front and his ass at the back.
"So pretty," John had said as he ran his hands up and down Dean's legs. "Pink is definitely your colour, sweetheart." He'd helped Dean step into the panties, pulling them up slowly and taking plenty of time to adjust the tight material over Dean's balls and cock and making sure the thin strip of fabric was buried deep between his buttocks, ran his finger along the crack of Dean's ass a couple of times just to make sure. Then there were photos from every angle, Dean sitting on the sofa and kneeling at John's feet and bent over the kitchen table. Later, he filmed Dean jerking off in the shower then took him into his bed, still damp. They slept together for the first and last time as father and son, John spooned up behind him, one arm slung loosely over his waist, one foot between Dean's ankles.
"It's okay to want it, baby," John had told him the following night. He'd sat Dean on the side of his bed, one hand on his knee. No underwear, just the grey mini-skirt John had asked him to put on as soon as he got home from school.
"But I'm scared, Daddy," Dean had replied, his voice breaking, a single tear running down his cheek.
"I know." And John had kissed him, their first proper kiss as lovers, sweet and lingering, the gentle press of lips and a brief touch of tongues and then it was over and John was moving his right hand slowly along Dean's bare thigh, higher and higher, fingertips brushing against the hem of the skirt, lifting it ever so slightly. He'd paused then, watching as Dean trembled and sobbed. "All you have to do is be a good little girl and say yes. Daddy will take care of everything else. Will you let Daddy will take care of you?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"Will you let Daddy touch you?" His hand started moving again, fingers circling Dean's penis loosely, barely there, barely holding him. His other hand gently nudged Dean's thighs apart, thumb stroking down the sensitive flesh, fingertips playing with the sparse hair shadowing his balls and perineum.
"Yes, Daddy."
"Will you let Daddy fuck you?"
He struggled to answer for a long few moments, even though he knew what his answer was going to be. "Yes, Daddy."
"Good girl."
John had kissed him again as he eased him down. He kissed and caressed him all over as he lubed him up and fingered him open, slowly stretching the tight virgin entrance. It hurt when John finally inserted his cock, just the slippery flared head at first. Dean moaned long and loud, the burning pain almost too intense for his young body to accept, to endure. "Daddy, please..."
"Please what, sweetheart? Stop? Don't stop?" John's voice was low and soothing, his fondling softer and more intimate.
"Don't.. don't know..."
"Tell me, baby. Tell Daddy what it feels like."
"Feels weird.. kinda good.. but it hurts too," Dean gasped, breath hitching, hands clenching the sheets.
"Say yes, my baby girl and I'll start fucking you properly. Say yes, Daddy."
And he wanted to say no, he really did cos John's cock in his ass really did hurt and fathers aren't supposed to want to fuck their sons but his father, his Daddy wants to fuck him and has always wanted to fuck him and Dean already loves it and hates it and loves him and hates him but he said, "Yes," and then "Yes, Daddy," just like the good little girl his daddy both wants and needs him to be and he still doesn't really know why expect that he loves John, he loves his Daddy, will do anything for him, be his baby girl, his good little girl, his lover, be anything his Daddy wants him to be. "Yes, Daddy. Please, Daddy."
John pulled out until just the tip of his cock was pressed against Dean's hole. "Not gonna hurt too much longer," he said. Then he slowly began pushing in again, deeper and deeper, inch by inch, not stopping til he was all the way in, his balls squeezed tight against Dean's.
And Dean groaned the entire time, his whole body shaking. "Ohfuckohgoddon'tyescan'tpleasefuck!" over and over until it was a jumble of words, of sounds, of emotions he had no other way to express. John fucked him, ploughing into him with strong thrusts of his hips and pelvis, slow to begin then faster and faster, harder and harder and the groans turned to screams and John kept fucking him, kept telling him how amazing he felt, how tight and hot and beautiful it was inside his sweet little girl and then screams turned to whimpers, Dean overwhelmed by too many simultaneous sensations, by the weight of John's body on top of his, by John's iron-tight grip behind his knees, holding his legs so wide apart Dean felt like he was being torn in two, by the rough scrape of John's beard over his stomach and chest and throat and under his arms and along the inside of his thighs, anywhere John's mouth and lips and tongue and teeth could reach, nuzzling and biting and sucking, by the brutal, rapid thrusts of John's cock, pummelling Dean's battered and abused anus over and over and over.
John came twice, Dean three times and still John kept fucking him, his thrusts becoming slower and more shallow as he recovered, Dean barely conscious, his body limp in John's arms, covered in bruises and bites and speckled with blood. John rolled Dean onto his belly and took him again from behind as the dawn sun streamed through the window. "Not done with you yet, baby girl," he whispered.
When Sam came in to say goodbye, Dean was face down and naked, John stretched out beside him, one foot hooked over Dean's calf. John's fingers were lazily tracing the rim of Dean's swollen hole. He pushed one inside, then two, rubbing against Dean's prostate just to hear him moan and beg and finally cry.
Dean was only half awake when Sam kissed him on the cheek. "Mornin' Sammy." He reached out one hand and Sam held it while John coaxed and fingered and milked him to yet another orgasm.
"Daddy?"
"Yeah, baby?"
"Will Sammy be your girl soon?" Dean didn't really want to ask but he needed to know, needed to somehow prepare Sam for what being Daddy's little girl really meant. Sure, Sam had seen pretty much everything he and John had done over the past couple of months, the kissing and the touching, the outfits, had no doubt heard them fucking nearly every night, perhaps even been able to watch them in the moonlit shadows of the tiny bedroom they all shared. But listening and watching was so different from the actual sex John subjected Dean to, from all the things he did to Dean and all the things he asked Dean do to him and with him.
"If he wants to be." John was nuzzling at Dean's throat, muffling his words.
Dean looked up at Sam. God he was still so young, small for his age, baby-faced and innocent and oh so beautiful. He didn't even have to ask. Sam knew what he was thinking.
"Maybe," Sam replied. "Don't know yet."
"When?" he asked John.
"When he's ready." A horn honked outside the window, Sam's ride to school. "You better get going, kiddo."
Sam lent over and kissed them goodbye, Dean on the cheek, "See ya, Dean." and Dad on his mouth just like always. "Bye, Dad." But this time it lasted a little bit longer, was a little softer than usual. John broke away, smiling then kissed Sam again and Dean closed his eyes, couldn't watch Sam return his father's kiss with far more than just boyish enthusiasm. He felt Sam squeeze his hand, fingers trembling and he squeezed back in assurance and acceptance. And then he was gone, overloaded backpack slung over one shoulder, brown paper lunch bag in his fist. Soon there would be other paper bags for Sam but Dean couldn't think about that, not right then.
Later they shared a bath and John jerked Dean off and fingered him again, asked Dean to blow him and Dean said, "Yes, Daddy," and John's come was bitter and thick and salty and disgusting and Dean managed to swallow some and John asked Dean to lick him clean and Dean said, "Yes, Daddy," and they kissed again and John called him his good little girl before fucking his mouth again.
John looks up at Dean with a twinkle in his eyes and a lazy grin. "Hey, baby," he says, his voice somehow both gravel rough and whiskey smooth. "Been thinkin' about you all day."
"Hi, Daddy," Dean replies. He's getting hard, cock thickening between his legs as he walks over to John. "Missed you so much." He leans down so John can kiss him passionately, one hand on the back of Dean's neck, pulling him closer, holding him there. He thumbs open the button on Dean's jeans, sliding his hand inside and gripping him firmly.
John finally pulls back and Dean straightens but stays in place between John's outstretched legs so he can strip him. He does it slowly, taking every opportunity to stroke and touch and caress. There's more kissing and Dean's legs suddenly feel weak, shaking slightly from arousal and desire and need.
John takes the outfit from the bag, helping Dean step into the plain blue bikini briefs, pulling them slowly up his bowed legs. They're skin-tight and snug and John pushes Dean's erection down between his thighs and back towards his ass. He runs his hand over Dean's crotch which is now flatter and almost feminine. Daddy's little girl.
There's a light cotton summer dress, grey with small white flowers, which John drops over Dean's raised arms, letting the flimsy fabric cascade down over his head and torso. It reaches mid-thigh and John slowly turns Dean around, admiring him every angle, tracing the bony ridges of his ribs and waist and hips, the curve of his lower back, the plump cheeks of his ass. "So beautiful. Want to keep you my little girl forever."
And then he's standing and lifting Dean and carrying him over to the kitchen counter. He sets him down and kisses him again, running his hands through Dean's shoulder-length hair and down his back.
"You'll be good for me, won't you little girl?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"Lift up for me, baby, just a little bit." John slides down Dean's briefs, leaving them just above his knees. "Keep your legs closed. Don't want your pretty panties falling off."
"Yes, Daddy." He presses his knees together, not easy when John shoves his hand beneath his dress and starts jerking him off. Even though Dean knew John was close to the edge, he's still unprepared for how rough John is. He's shoved back against the tiled wall by the force of John's handling, his cock gripped and squeezed and stroked. John drags him closer again, fisting him til Dean is crying out, John's finger buried knuckle deep and pressing hard against his prostate.
Dean comes, waves and waves of want and need and desire rushing over him and through him. He's still coming when John loops Dean's hands around his neck "hold on, little girl" and picks him up again. Dean's head slumps on John's shoulder as he's carried to the bedroom and laid down. He watches John undress through half-closed eyes, exhausted yet satisfied, come-soaked panties tangled around his feet. John makes love to him for hours, gentler than he's ever been. He comes again along with John (another first) and then again and again, til he's dry-spasming, his asshole and cock and balls so oversensitive it hurts when John kisses and touches him there.
John finally falls asleep and Dean is fixing dinner in the kitchen when Sam comes home. He's still wearing the dress, bare underneath. Sam drops his soccer gear in the middle of the living room, runs over and hugs Dean from behind. He plants a sloppy kiss in the middle of Dean's back, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist, linking his fingers below Dean's belly.
"Hey, Sammy." Dean doesn't turn around, even when Sam lifts the hem of his dress, running his fingers over the bruises colouring his backside in shades of purple and blue and red and along the crease at the top of his thighs where John's fingerprints are still indented into the flesh.
"Did Dad do this?" he asks quietly and Dean can hear the awe in his voice and his heart skips a beat then breaks.
'No, Sammy, don't let him, not yet,' Dean begs silently. 'You're too young. It's too soon. Be a boy, be a kid for as long as you can.'
"Yeah, he did." Dean answers and fuck, he can feel the tears filling his eyes. His hands are trapped at his sides by Sam's arms so he can't wipe his eyes, can only stand there as tears run down his face.
"Did it hurt?"
Dean wants to lie but he doesn't. Sam deserves the truth. "Yeah, a little but it wasn't too bad. Daddy took good care of me after." Dean turns in the small circle of Sam's arms, embracing him tightly and placing a kiss on the mop of shaggy hair. 'Too young to be any man's lover,' he thinks again. "He'll take good care of you too, okay?"
They eat dinner side by side on the sofa and Dean helps Sam with his homework. When John appears, standing tall and naked and hard, in the bedroom doorway Dean kisses Sam on the cheek and goes to him. He takes his outstretched hand and John kisses him slowly before leading him back to bed, his other hand cupping Dean's bare ass.
"You'll be good for me, won't you little girl?"
"Yes, Daddy. Always."
THE END
PAIRING: John/Dean, implied future John/Sam
RATING: NC-17
WORD COUNT: 2700
WARNINGS: Underage (Dean is 14), bruises, blowjobs, rough sex, first time, daddykink, cross-dressing, slightly feminized Dean
SUMMARY: Dean tries his best to give his Daddy what he wants.
A/N #1: for skeletncloset who posted a vnsfw gif (below the cut) here which got all my juices flowing.
A/N #2: damn you, skeletncloset. Went to that tumblr and spent an hour downloading lots of gifs with the same theme so there will probably more of this filth.
A/N #3: I should be working on my spn_j2_bigbang not writing John/Dean daddy!kink porn at 2am but just had to get this out of my system and I already want to write more.
GOOD LITTLE GIRL
It's a quarter to four on a Tuesday afternoon. Sam is at soccer practice (won't be finished til six-thirty) and the Impala is parked outside the door to their motel room. Dean lets himself in and drops his backpack just inside the door.
John is slumped on the sofa, eyes closed, long lashes curling softly, cheeks and jaw covered in stubble that's already heavily streaked with grey. He's still dressed in his Fed Suit, white and blue checked shirt under a dark blue jacket, dark blue dress pants wrinkled and stained with travel grime and sweat. One hand is between his legs and his slim fingers are slowing stroking over the large bulge, thumb pressing against the head, circling over the top, then pressing again. There's an obvious damp patch and Dean knows he's close, so close. He may have come once already, probably has given his habit of orgasming just from thinking about bending Dean over the nearest piece of furniture.
Dean's stomach clenches and twists. He tastes bile, bitter and hot, at the back of his throat and swallows quickly, eyes squeezing shut as he takes a slow deep breath. John's been gone almost two weeks. There won't be any foreplay this time, no soft kisses and tender touches to get Dean in the mood and ready for John's affections.
The bag is sitting on the floor next to John's left foot. The white and pink logo is one Dean has become very familiar with over the last few weeks. 'Sweet Sixteen'
He first saw it when John wished him a happy fourteenth birthday. Inside was a pink satin and lace G-string and a sheer baby-doll negligée. It was pastel pink with tiny darker pink roses and spaghetti straps. When he put it on, it barely covered his junk in front and his ass at the back.
"So pretty," John had said as he ran his hands up and down Dean's legs. "Pink is definitely your colour, sweetheart." He'd helped Dean step into the panties, pulling them up slowly and taking plenty of time to adjust the tight material over Dean's balls and cock and making sure the thin strip of fabric was buried deep between his buttocks, ran his finger along the crack of Dean's ass a couple of times just to make sure. Then there were photos from every angle, Dean sitting on the sofa and kneeling at John's feet and bent over the kitchen table. Later, he filmed Dean jerking off in the shower then took him into his bed, still damp. They slept together for the first and last time as father and son, John spooned up behind him, one arm slung loosely over his waist, one foot between Dean's ankles.
"It's okay to want it, baby," John had told him the following night. He'd sat Dean on the side of his bed, one hand on his knee. No underwear, just the grey mini-skirt John had asked him to put on as soon as he got home from school.
"But I'm scared, Daddy," Dean had replied, his voice breaking, a single tear running down his cheek.
"I know." And John had kissed him, their first proper kiss as lovers, sweet and lingering, the gentle press of lips and a brief touch of tongues and then it was over and John was moving his right hand slowly along Dean's bare thigh, higher and higher, fingertips brushing against the hem of the skirt, lifting it ever so slightly. He'd paused then, watching as Dean trembled and sobbed. "All you have to do is be a good little girl and say yes. Daddy will take care of everything else. Will you let Daddy will take care of you?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"Will you let Daddy touch you?" His hand started moving again, fingers circling Dean's penis loosely, barely there, barely holding him. His other hand gently nudged Dean's thighs apart, thumb stroking down the sensitive flesh, fingertips playing with the sparse hair shadowing his balls and perineum.
"Yes, Daddy."
"Will you let Daddy fuck you?"
He struggled to answer for a long few moments, even though he knew what his answer was going to be. "Yes, Daddy."
"Good girl."
John had kissed him again as he eased him down. He kissed and caressed him all over as he lubed him up and fingered him open, slowly stretching the tight virgin entrance. It hurt when John finally inserted his cock, just the slippery flared head at first. Dean moaned long and loud, the burning pain almost too intense for his young body to accept, to endure. "Daddy, please..."
"Please what, sweetheart? Stop? Don't stop?" John's voice was low and soothing, his fondling softer and more intimate.
"Don't.. don't know..."
"Tell me, baby. Tell Daddy what it feels like."
"Feels weird.. kinda good.. but it hurts too," Dean gasped, breath hitching, hands clenching the sheets.
"Say yes, my baby girl and I'll start fucking you properly. Say yes, Daddy."
And he wanted to say no, he really did cos John's cock in his ass really did hurt and fathers aren't supposed to want to fuck their sons but his father, his Daddy wants to fuck him and has always wanted to fuck him and Dean already loves it and hates it and loves him and hates him but he said, "Yes," and then "Yes, Daddy," just like the good little girl his daddy both wants and needs him to be and he still doesn't really know why expect that he loves John, he loves his Daddy, will do anything for him, be his baby girl, his good little girl, his lover, be anything his Daddy wants him to be. "Yes, Daddy. Please, Daddy."
John pulled out until just the tip of his cock was pressed against Dean's hole. "Not gonna hurt too much longer," he said. Then he slowly began pushing in again, deeper and deeper, inch by inch, not stopping til he was all the way in, his balls squeezed tight against Dean's.
And Dean groaned the entire time, his whole body shaking. "Ohfuckohgoddon'tyescan'tpleasefuck!" over and over until it was a jumble of words, of sounds, of emotions he had no other way to express. John fucked him, ploughing into him with strong thrusts of his hips and pelvis, slow to begin then faster and faster, harder and harder and the groans turned to screams and John kept fucking him, kept telling him how amazing he felt, how tight and hot and beautiful it was inside his sweet little girl and then screams turned to whimpers, Dean overwhelmed by too many simultaneous sensations, by the weight of John's body on top of his, by John's iron-tight grip behind his knees, holding his legs so wide apart Dean felt like he was being torn in two, by the rough scrape of John's beard over his stomach and chest and throat and under his arms and along the inside of his thighs, anywhere John's mouth and lips and tongue and teeth could reach, nuzzling and biting and sucking, by the brutal, rapid thrusts of John's cock, pummelling Dean's battered and abused anus over and over and over.
John came twice, Dean three times and still John kept fucking him, his thrusts becoming slower and more shallow as he recovered, Dean barely conscious, his body limp in John's arms, covered in bruises and bites and speckled with blood. John rolled Dean onto his belly and took him again from behind as the dawn sun streamed through the window. "Not done with you yet, baby girl," he whispered.
When Sam came in to say goodbye, Dean was face down and naked, John stretched out beside him, one foot hooked over Dean's calf. John's fingers were lazily tracing the rim of Dean's swollen hole. He pushed one inside, then two, rubbing against Dean's prostate just to hear him moan and beg and finally cry.
Dean was only half awake when Sam kissed him on the cheek. "Mornin' Sammy." He reached out one hand and Sam held it while John coaxed and fingered and milked him to yet another orgasm.
"Daddy?"
"Yeah, baby?"
"Will Sammy be your girl soon?" Dean didn't really want to ask but he needed to know, needed to somehow prepare Sam for what being Daddy's little girl really meant. Sure, Sam had seen pretty much everything he and John had done over the past couple of months, the kissing and the touching, the outfits, had no doubt heard them fucking nearly every night, perhaps even been able to watch them in the moonlit shadows of the tiny bedroom they all shared. But listening and watching was so different from the actual sex John subjected Dean to, from all the things he did to Dean and all the things he asked Dean do to him and with him.
"If he wants to be." John was nuzzling at Dean's throat, muffling his words.
Dean looked up at Sam. God he was still so young, small for his age, baby-faced and innocent and oh so beautiful. He didn't even have to ask. Sam knew what he was thinking.
"Maybe," Sam replied. "Don't know yet."
"When?" he asked John.
"When he's ready." A horn honked outside the window, Sam's ride to school. "You better get going, kiddo."
Sam lent over and kissed them goodbye, Dean on the cheek, "See ya, Dean." and Dad on his mouth just like always. "Bye, Dad." But this time it lasted a little bit longer, was a little softer than usual. John broke away, smiling then kissed Sam again and Dean closed his eyes, couldn't watch Sam return his father's kiss with far more than just boyish enthusiasm. He felt Sam squeeze his hand, fingers trembling and he squeezed back in assurance and acceptance. And then he was gone, overloaded backpack slung over one shoulder, brown paper lunch bag in his fist. Soon there would be other paper bags for Sam but Dean couldn't think about that, not right then.
Later they shared a bath and John jerked Dean off and fingered him again, asked Dean to blow him and Dean said, "Yes, Daddy," and John's come was bitter and thick and salty and disgusting and Dean managed to swallow some and John asked Dean to lick him clean and Dean said, "Yes, Daddy," and they kissed again and John called him his good little girl before fucking his mouth again.
John looks up at Dean with a twinkle in his eyes and a lazy grin. "Hey, baby," he says, his voice somehow both gravel rough and whiskey smooth. "Been thinkin' about you all day."
"Hi, Daddy," Dean replies. He's getting hard, cock thickening between his legs as he walks over to John. "Missed you so much." He leans down so John can kiss him passionately, one hand on the back of Dean's neck, pulling him closer, holding him there. He thumbs open the button on Dean's jeans, sliding his hand inside and gripping him firmly.
John finally pulls back and Dean straightens but stays in place between John's outstretched legs so he can strip him. He does it slowly, taking every opportunity to stroke and touch and caress. There's more kissing and Dean's legs suddenly feel weak, shaking slightly from arousal and desire and need.
John takes the outfit from the bag, helping Dean step into the plain blue bikini briefs, pulling them slowly up his bowed legs. They're skin-tight and snug and John pushes Dean's erection down between his thighs and back towards his ass. He runs his hand over Dean's crotch which is now flatter and almost feminine. Daddy's little girl.
There's a light cotton summer dress, grey with small white flowers, which John drops over Dean's raised arms, letting the flimsy fabric cascade down over his head and torso. It reaches mid-thigh and John slowly turns Dean around, admiring him every angle, tracing the bony ridges of his ribs and waist and hips, the curve of his lower back, the plump cheeks of his ass. "So beautiful. Want to keep you my little girl forever."
And then he's standing and lifting Dean and carrying him over to the kitchen counter. He sets him down and kisses him again, running his hands through Dean's shoulder-length hair and down his back.
"You'll be good for me, won't you little girl?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"Lift up for me, baby, just a little bit." John slides down Dean's briefs, leaving them just above his knees. "Keep your legs closed. Don't want your pretty panties falling off."
"Yes, Daddy." He presses his knees together, not easy when John shoves his hand beneath his dress and starts jerking him off. Even though Dean knew John was close to the edge, he's still unprepared for how rough John is. He's shoved back against the tiled wall by the force of John's handling, his cock gripped and squeezed and stroked. John drags him closer again, fisting him til Dean is crying out, John's finger buried knuckle deep and pressing hard against his prostate.
Dean comes, waves and waves of want and need and desire rushing over him and through him. He's still coming when John loops Dean's hands around his neck "hold on, little girl" and picks him up again. Dean's head slumps on John's shoulder as he's carried to the bedroom and laid down. He watches John undress through half-closed eyes, exhausted yet satisfied, come-soaked panties tangled around his feet. John makes love to him for hours, gentler than he's ever been. He comes again along with John (another first) and then again and again, til he's dry-spasming, his asshole and cock and balls so oversensitive it hurts when John kisses and touches him there.
John finally falls asleep and Dean is fixing dinner in the kitchen when Sam comes home. He's still wearing the dress, bare underneath. Sam drops his soccer gear in the middle of the living room, runs over and hugs Dean from behind. He plants a sloppy kiss in the middle of Dean's back, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist, linking his fingers below Dean's belly.
"Hey, Sammy." Dean doesn't turn around, even when Sam lifts the hem of his dress, running his fingers over the bruises colouring his backside in shades of purple and blue and red and along the crease at the top of his thighs where John's fingerprints are still indented into the flesh.
"Did Dad do this?" he asks quietly and Dean can hear the awe in his voice and his heart skips a beat then breaks.
'No, Sammy, don't let him, not yet,' Dean begs silently. 'You're too young. It's too soon. Be a boy, be a kid for as long as you can.'
"Yeah, he did." Dean answers and fuck, he can feel the tears filling his eyes. His hands are trapped at his sides by Sam's arms so he can't wipe his eyes, can only stand there as tears run down his face.
"Did it hurt?"
Dean wants to lie but he doesn't. Sam deserves the truth. "Yeah, a little but it wasn't too bad. Daddy took good care of me after." Dean turns in the small circle of Sam's arms, embracing him tightly and placing a kiss on the mop of shaggy hair. 'Too young to be any man's lover,' he thinks again. "He'll take good care of you too, okay?"
They eat dinner side by side on the sofa and Dean helps Sam with his homework. When John appears, standing tall and naked and hard, in the bedroom doorway Dean kisses Sam on the cheek and goes to him. He takes his outstretched hand and John kisses him slowly before leading him back to bed, his other hand cupping Dean's bare ass.
"You'll be good for me, won't you little girl?"
"Yes, Daddy. Always."
THE END